Duke of Laughter
by WarmerNights
Summary: After being driven out of Big Whiskey, the hapless English Bob encounters a little girl who's up to no good...or is she? Ridiculous fluff and completely out-of-character material.


"Were you dreaming about your queen again?" asked a young girl.

English Bob kept his eyes closed as he lay in bed. He heard the familiar young voice of the child he had grown accustomed to, but he ignored it. Ever since that horrible incident in Big Whiskey, Bob stayed quiet and kept to himself. He had been forced to leave town with his head hung in shame, after having the cockiness and dignity kicked out of him. Every ounce of pride gone, beaten into the dust and lost forever. His biographer, W. W. Beauchamp, a bespectacled little man with dark curly hair and woolly mutton chops. A parasite of a fellow who abandoned Bob and moved on to a more respected host in the form of Little Bill Daggett. Bob started to realize that he wasn't worth anything and that nobody liked him. He found a small hotel in another town and there he stayed, at least until he could figure out what to do next. Pretty much at the end of the road, however. Depression…that was all he knew now and he welcomed it…his only companion.

"You can't fake sleep forever, Duke," said Amanda, the eight-year-old daughter of the hotel owner. She was referring to the so-called biography of English Bob entitled 'Duke of Death.'

Bob harbored a hint of respect for the girl since she called him 'Duke'. You see, back in Big Whiskey Bob had been called the 'Duck' much to his disdain. The 'Duck of Death'.

Amanda was tall for her age, with rosy cheeks and chocolate brown hair tied back with a pink ribbon. Her most renowned quality however, would have to be her healthy ego. She parked herself in the rocking chair conveniently located in Bob's room. The old chair made an irritating creak noise every time it lurched back and forth. _Creak, creak, creak..._

The solemn-faced girl kept her eyes locked on Bob as she waited to see how long he could handle the creaking torture.

 _Creak, creak, creak..._

Just a few minutes should do it.

 _Creak, creak, creak..._

"Will you stop that ungodly noise?" Bob finally spat.

Amanda smirked, satisfied on getting a rise out of him. She stilled the chair.

He glared at the child. "Would you be so kind as to leave my sight? I will throw you out if I need to."

"Can't touch me," she said, sashaying over to the foot of his bed. "I can have you evicted…I am the owner of this fine resort."

Bob scoffed as he adjusted his pillow and lay back down.

"And you can stop using that phony baloney accent, English Bob. Nobody buys it!"

"Leave me alone!" Bob slapped his hands against his ears in an attempt to block that condescending pesky voice. He wanted to toss her right out of the room…on her head.

Amanda made herself comfortable at his bedside. "You sure like that silly queen of yours, don't you? Well, I used to dream of being a princess when I was a little girl. I would dress up in Mama's pretty dresses and pretend I was a beautiful princess and my father was my prince." A wistful look of imagination filled her aqua eyes as they shined in the morning sunlight.

Bob refused to listen to such gibberish and snapped, "Whatever made you believe you could be a princess? You are the most ridiculous little creature I have ever met. You have not a single drop of royal blood in your veins."

Amanda turned her head away, suddenly muted by his discouraging remarks.

Then Bob felt a twinge of something unusual…remorse. He regretted insulting her for childhood dreams when he used to have those when he was a child (which was about a hundred years ago).

"I'm…sorry."

Amanda turned back to look at him. She chuckled a bit. "There's something you don't hear everyday. I never knew you could say those words."

"Nor did I," Bob admitted, hoisting himself into a partial sitting position with a groan of discomfort. Amanda cocked her head, giving the man a curious look as he tried to get comfortable.

"Are you in pain?" she asked, taking notice of his wrinkled face which always seemed to be grimacing.

Bob was still recovering from the brutal injuries that he had sustained in Big Whiskey. For a man his age, the wounds had definitely taken a toll on his body. He never talked about the incident though, not to anyone. Too emotionally painful.

"You don't smile much, do you, Duke?"

Bob frowned, resting his hands behind his head as he relaxed. "How can I smile? My friends are gone...my pride is gone…my legacy is gone."

Amanda shrugged her shoulders. "Well, maybe you never had any of those things to begin with…"

Bob stared at her, stunned at such brashness. She smirked and shrugged again. He sighed. It was true…Bob was a loser and a phony and he knew it.

"Okay, look," Amanda spoke with uncommon gentleness. "English Bob, I know you are nothing but a big, fat nothing…and I still talk to you, don't I? That must mean you're worth _something_. So stop being such a gloomy glop and lighten up!"

"Easy for you to say, little miss."

"Do you enjoy being miserable?" she inquired.

"Yes."

Amanda racked her brains for a way to change the grumpy man's attitude. An idea entered her mind. "I used to have tickle fights with my family when I was little. It was a lot of fun. Are you ticklish?"

Bob rolled his eyes. "I certainly am not."

"Oh." Amanda looked disappointed.

"Few men are," Bob explained to her. "Especially when they have reached my age."

"How old are you?"

"Old enough to be dead," he muttered.

Without warning, Amanda poked him in the ribs below the armpit. He yelped and nearly jumped off the bed as he jerked away.

The girl cracked a smile. "Did that tickle?"

"Oh no, certainly not," Bob said quickly.

"Then why did you react that way?"

"Your finger was cold."

"But you're wearing a shirt."

"Ice cold! That frozen finger is a lethal weapon."

"Uh huh…," Amanda rolled her eyes.

"Now, will you kindly leave me be?"

Amanda pinched his ribs playfully, digging in a bit deeper than before.

"Stop that," Bob hissed through clenched teeth as he jerked away from her again. He tried to keep his arms up because if he put them down to protect himself, it would reveal his ticklishness.

Amanda grinned impishly and dug into his ribs and armpits with both hands. Bob completely lost it. He squealed like a woman and burst into shrill giggles. His arms clamped down and he drew his knees up, trying in vain to protect his sensitive areas. The girl's nimble fingers snuck in anyway and tickled him relentlessly.

"Not ticklish, huh? What a liar, you naughty man!" she teased playfully.

"Amahahahahanda! Eheheheehee! St-stop that this instant!" Bob begged through his uncontrollable giggling.

She ignored his pleas, only to jump on top of him and tickle harder. She did her best evil laugh as she furiously tickled his sides.

"GAH! No! Nohohohoho! ENOUGH! Hahahahahaha!"

He was genuinely surprised at his ticklishness. I mean, who would have thought?

As Amanda straddled him, she explored all the areas within reach. She scribbled on his stomach and he exploded with crazed laughter.

"EEEEEHEHEHEHEHEHEHEE HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA! GOD NOOOO!" Bob laughed maniacally. The belly tickles were the worst by far! He bucked and fought wildly, but was unable to escape the ten tickling fingers that fed on him. What a skilled child, Amanda…to prevent herself from being tossed off, all the while tickling the crap out of him.

She smiled, lifting up his shirt so she could tickle him better. "You seem to be enjoying yourself, Duke."

Bob could only laugh and squeal like some pathetic little infant. Very embarrassing to say the least. This degrading incident reminded him of another horrible day that had been seared into his memory - albeit tickling was not quite as bad as physical pain.

"HEEHEEHEEHAAAAAHAHAHAHAHAHA! GAAAAH STOP! PLEHEHEHEHEASE!"

"I'll keep tickling until you say 'Uncle'!"

With no other choice, Bob yelled it through his cackles.

"Now say 'Uncle John'!" Amanda grinned like a witch.

Then Bob managed to grab her wrists. He held her hands back so she couldn't tickle him anymore and pushed her away, despite his weakness.

"You feel better now," Amanda said.

Bob hugged himself to defend his stomach and sides which ached from laughter. He gasped for air. Stringy pale hair stuck to his face with sweat. "Do I…?

"Yes, you do! You're smiling right now…did you know that?"

Bob realized with surprise that she was right. He had a dopey, sheepish grin on his worn old face. Exhausted as he was, the Duke of Death genuinely did feel better. His heart felt lighter, the depression subsided for the time being. Somehow he didn't feel so lonely and unwanted anymore.

"Duke, you're not such a bad old fellow," Amanda admitted, throwing him a smirk over her shoulder as she headed for the door. "You're even fun. I will be your friend."

"Thank you," Bob whispered under his breath.

The End


End file.
